by John Peter Davis

Created on: December 19, 2008

CHRISTMAS PAST

It was a snowy, blustery, cold December 24th many years ago.

At the time, I was an altar boy at Holy Name Catholic church and I was going to serve the midnight mass. It was a privilege reserved for the more senior servers and I would be doing it for the first time in my life. I loved the pageantry and mysticism of the mass when it was done in Latin, especially when it was a "high mass" and was performed by three priests. There were more candles lit for this service and it was accompanied by the melodious organ and the choir.

Coming home from church on the preceding Sunday we had seen Christmas trees for sale, kitty corner to the church. The vendor had set up beside the old five and dime. Artificial trees had not started their popularity yet so real trees were bought as close to Christmas as possible so that they would last until the Epiphany (the feast of the three wise men) on January 6th.

I was twelve years old at the time.

Because we did not own a car and my father's health prevented him from going out in the cold, my father decided that for the first time I was old enough to get the tree by myself, so late in the afternoon I set out to get our tree, dragging my snow sled behind me. It was about a half hour trip, trudging through the snow and playing on the way. It was about six blocks from home to where the trees were for sale, leaning against the building and illuminated with a temporary string of lights hanging from a makeshift frame.

It was starting to get dark and the falling snow danced in the lights as I looked at the trees. The only instruction I had was that the tree had to be spruce because my dad did not like pine as a Christmas tree.

I looked at each tree, carefully twirling it around to see it from all sides as I had seen my father do many times before. The tree I chose could not have gaps between the branches. It had to be perfectly symmetrical. Suddenly I spied the most beautiful tree I had even seen, over in the corner. It was leaning majestically against the wall in its entire splendor. It had to be about twelve feet tall with a branch span of at least eight feet at the base.

The sign said the trees were $1.50 but the man selling them gave it to me for 75 cents. My dad would be so proud. Not only did I get a beautiful tree, but I got it for half price.

I carefully tied it to my sled, base facing me so that I would not break the branches as I pulled it along, and started on my way home. The trip was fairly uneventful except when I

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